Here's To Now
by iambeagle
Summary: "When everything goes wrong, that's when adventure starts."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

 _"For me, when everything goes wrong, that's when adventure starts." -Yvon Chouinard_

XXX

I live an ordinary life.

Which isn't saying much, I guess, because everyone's definition of ordinary is different.

But for me, it goes like this: I went straight to college after graduating high school, then spent four years studying journalism and putting all of my energy into a doomed relationship.

There was zero room for error, no spontaneity. Just a daily schedule, a routine that kept me busy enough to keep from feeling like I was missing out on life.

Eventually my degree in journalism led to freelancing. My relationship led to wasted years. And my ordinary every day led to feeling like I needed more.

I live an ordinary life. One I'm stuck in, and don't know how to get out of.

XXX

"Liam's here," my roommate Jess says through my bedroom door. I don't have to see her to know she's rolling her eyes.

"I'll be out in a second," I say, pulling a hoodie on and closing my laptop. When I open the door, she's still there, giving me a look. "What?"

"Don't give him any more money," she says quietly. "Seriously."

I don't respond, just slip past her and into the living room where my ex-boyfriend sits on the couch we bought together a year ago. His light hair is longer, but it suits him. He's clean-shaven, something he rarely was when we were together. He's wearing a shirt I don't recognize and it makes me feel weird, not knowing what he's been up to.

When he sees me, his face breaks out into a smile. My heart plummets.

"Hey." He stands. "I tried calling."

"I've been working. Got a deadline in a couple of days." It's true, but I leave out the part where I've been avoiding him.

Jess hovers for a second, her way of making sure everything's okay. I give her a look, and she disappears to her room. I wait until I hear the soft click of her door to speak.

"What's up?" I ask, making a point to stay standing.

"So you know I was lined up to get that marketing job," he says, getting straight to the point. "It fell through."

Part of me hoped he wasn't here for money, but I should've known better. "That sucks."

"I know." He shifts from foot to foot, and our cat Sadie moves from her spot perched on the windowsill to rub up against his legs. He bends down, picks her up. "Jared's getting really tired of me posting up on his couch."

"Liam—"

"Look. I don't want to be asking you for money any more than you want me to. Trust me."

"It's been six months," I stress.

"I know. But I mean, you didn't leave me in a good position…"

Sadie meows at him and he puts her down.

" _I_ didn't leave you in a good position? What about the position you put me in?"

"You kicked me out of our apartment."

"What was I supposed to do? You said you wanted to see other people, but still live together. Do you not see how ridiculous that is?"

"You took it the wrong way."

" _You_ broke my fucking heart."

His face falls, and for a split second I see the person he used to be. I see lazy Sundays and making food in the kitchen at two in the morning. I see every time he whispered he loved me. I see the boy I fell in love with my junior year in college, and the man he turned into, the one who decided he didn't really want me after all.

"You were my best friend," he says quietly, sadly. "I didn't want to lose that."

"I didn't kick you out because I didn't love you. I did it because I loved you too much. Because I couldn't be your best friend anymore. I _can't_ be. So no, I can't help you."

He looks down, rubs the back of his neck. "I understand."

"I don't want to see you struggle, but you get why this is hard for me, right?"

"I do."

"Okay." Sadie meows from the couch before rolling over on her back, legs outstretched. "You should go. I gotta get back to work."

"I'm sorry, I just… I'm sorry."

"Okay," I say again. And I know he means it. But there's nothing else to say, nothing else for me to do except watch him walk out of the apartment.

* * *

 **Oh my! Hi! This is weird. So I kinda had this idea playing around in my head for a bit after watching this documentary on Netflix (180 Degrees South). I figured writing it might help the creative juices. Also, if I'm being completely honest, I totally miss you guys.  
** **  
The chapters will be short-ish. I don't want to say drabble. But yeah. Somewhere in between. Shrabble? Drort? I'll shut up.  
** **  
**

 **As always, thanks for reading. It's always a pleasure to surround myself with you lovely, supportive people.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

"I'm proud of you."

"Yeah?" I shove a potsticker in my mouth, then add another for good measure.

"I'm sure that wasn't easy," Jess says, shaking red pepper flakes over everything on her plate. "I totally would have caved if I were you."

"Really? _You_ were the one who told me not to cave."

"I know. But he looked so… sad."

I swallow, then give her a small, tight smile. "Well."

"Bella," she groans. "Stop being bummed. Please."

"Okay."

"What can I do?"

"Um… give me back the last seven years of my life? Stalk Liam's Facebook and tell me he isn't seeing anyone, especially that one girl who keeps tagging him in pictures. Rob a bank and—"

She laughs. "I was thinking something more along the lines of plying you with wine and ice cream."

"That works, too, I guess." I purse my lips. "You sure you can't rob a bank? Doesn't your friend Jake work at the one up the street? It can be an inside job."

"You watch too many movies." She gets up, and Sadie promptly jumps up onto her seat, paws on the table, sniffing at her plate.

"Yeah right, Ms. Sadie." I reach over and pull her into my arms against her protesting meows.

Jess returns with two mason jars of wine. We used to have real glasses with stems, but all of the glasses either got knocked over mid-dance party or had untimely deaths while being washed.

"How's Whole Foods treating you?" I ask, letting Sadie jump from my lap.

"Oh, you know. I get to make angry people coffee every morning and converse with hot, bearded vegans."

"So you're living the dream?"

Jess snorts. "Kind of, yeah."

"Is it a requirement for vegans to have facial hair? I swear, all of the ones I run into have beards."

"One of the guys who works as a sandwich maker―"

"Jess, come on. _Sandwich maker_?"

"What? I don't know what the actual job title is, other than he makes sandwiches. But listen. He was trying to tell me the other day that cheese is addictive. He compared it to crack."

"Oh, yeah. I read a book about that."

"And?"

"And nothing. Even if it's super addictive, that isn't going to stop me from eating it."

She clinks her mason jar against mine. "How's work going for you?"

"I just finished an interview with this gal who's a surf ambassador for Patagonia. So basically she gets to try out their gear and surf all day."

"And she gets paid for it?"

"Yeah."

"No shit?"

I grab my phone and open Instagram to show Jess some of her pictures.

"What a babe," she says, stealing my phone. "I guess if I surfed all day I'd be fit, too. Damn, and look at this dude." She passes the phone back, and I'm staring at a picture of Edward Cullen.

I smile. "I know him."

"Shut up."

"I've interviewed him twice. He's..." I think about a good word to describe him. "Infectious."

"In the disease-ridden way?"

"No. In the inspiring way."

She nods. "When did you interview him and why didn't you introduce me?"

"The first time was two years ago. The second was…" I pause. "Last May."

"So it's like an annual thing? Cute." She takes a large gulp of wine. "He's too good-looking. I might need to rethink my whole barista career."

"The most athletic thing I've seen you achieve is _not_ complain while walking up two flights of stairs."

"I did complain, you just didn't hear me."

Jess gets up to refill her wine, and I click on Edward's profile. The last time I interviewed him, he'd just climbed El Capitan in Yosemite in record time. It's an insane accomplishment, but I only remember him being very humble about it all.

Scrolling through his Instagram, I'm instantly mesmerized by his lust for life. He's always on the go. Every picture a new place. Every frame a new adventure.

I have the sudden urge to interview him again, and make a mental note to give him a call in a few days.

* * *

 **Y'all are amazing! Thanks for not flaming me.** **  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

" _Hey Bella, it's Liam. I wanted to see if we could meet up or something. I feel really shitty about the other day and just wanted to talk. Call me back_."

I listen to the voicemail for a second time. Of course a tiny part of me wants to see him, but all the other parts know it won't do me any good. It's not my job to make him feel better anymore, and the sooner we start to live our own lives, the better off we'll both be.

After I delete his voicemail, I click on my recent calls. It's been a week since I've contacted Edward, but I haven't heard back yet. I don't want to hound him, but convince myself enough time has passed for me to try again.

This time, he answers on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Edward? It's Bella Swan. I interviewed you—"

"I remember," he interrupts, the sound of murmured conversation filling the background. "How's it going?"

"It's going. I'm glad I got a hold of you. I left a message last week but didn't hear back."

"Sorry about that. I was in Baja California with a couple of friends. Long story short, my phone had an untimely death." Someone in the background yells something, maybe at him, and he chuckles. "Got a new one, though."

"Are you still in Mexico, then? I was hoping to get an interview with you in the next few weeks. We can do it over the phone or—"

"I'm actually on my way to El Paso. One of my friends is getting married and I think I'm supposed to be in the wedding."

"You think?"

He breathes, and his laugh spills into the phone. "Yeah. You're still in Austin?"

"Yep."

"Why don't I just come to you. Might get into Austin sometime next week."

"That would be wonderful." I glance at my calendar. "Although… do you have more of a timeframe in mind? Or can you narrow it down to a couple of days I can block out for you?"

"Yeah…" he says this slowly, like he's also looking at a calendar, but he doesn't strike me as the type who has one. "So the thing about that is I'm probably gonna be hitchhiking."

I bite on the end of my pen. "I wouldn't expect any less from you."

"There's a small chance I'll take the train. But I'll save your number and get back to you." He pauses. "We had a van. And then, you know. Shit happens. Vans die. And then the parts get stolen." He says this like it's something I can relate to. But it's so far from relatable, all I can do is laugh.

"Right. Well... good luck with all of that. Let me know when you make it into town and we'll figure something out."

"Sounds good." Another pause. "I'm glad you called. I was thinking about you the other day, actually."

I smile into the phone, wonder if he can hear it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Instead of elaborating, he keeps that air of mystery only he can possess, and promises to call next week.

XXX

A week and a half later, I get a weird call from Edward. It's hard to hear him, the reception is awful. The call drops and a couple minutes pass before I get a text from him.

 _ **Gonna be in Austin on Tuesday. Meet at The Red Shed? Maybe 8?**_

I write this down on my calendar, then reply.

 _ **Sounds good. See you then!**_

I stare at my phone, watch as those three little dots appear and disappear as he contemplates a reply. In the end he doesn't add anything more, and I spend a good half hour wondering what he wanted to say.

* * *

 **Happy Saturday!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

When I arrive at the Red Shed, I'm half an hour early. I order a pale ale for me, water for Edward, and find an empty booth so I can go over a few things before he arrives.

I keep an eye on the entrance when it nears eight. Not even a minute later, I spot Edward walk in and watch as he scans the bar. He's wearing a dark green T-shirt, a full beard, and when his eyes land on me, I wave him over.

"You're early," he says instead of hello. "And you changed your hair."

I smile as he sits across from me in the booth. "Chopped off about five inches since the last time we saw each other. And how do you know I was early?"

"Well you're here. And you're half a beer in."

I nod. "I was already in the neighborhood."

His eyes narrow almost playfully as he searches my face. "You've been early every single time we've met."

"Even the first time?" I ask.

Behind his beard, his face breaks into a smile that feels more intimate than it should. "Even then."

I think back to our first interview, almost two years ago. A friend of mine was working as a photo editor and let me sit in on a shoot Edward was part of. I was nervous, but his laid-back demeanor was infectious. I submitted the interview to a blog sponsored by Patagonia, one that doesn't pay a dime. The feedback was amazing and it opened up so many doors for me, eventually getting me constant gigs writing for the company. So in a way, Edward helped jump-start my career.

"You must have a good memory," I say after a few seconds. "Do you also remember how nervous I was?"

He thinks about this, and I can see he's really considering if it's true. It's one of the things I appreciate the most about him: he takes the time to say things he truly means.

"My memory's okay. But I only remember the important things," he finally says. Then: "You were fine. I couldn't tell you were nervous."

I wipe condensation from my pint glass and watch his focus gravitate toward my beer.

"Oh. I got you water," I say, pulling out an empty notebook and pen. "I remember you don't drink."

He grins, tipping his head to the side. "Oh, I drink. The two times you've interviewed me was before I either climbed or surfed. So no, I didn't drink then."

"Then what'll it be? I could be asking some very personal questions," I joke. "You might need something to help you relax."

"Is that so?" He laughs lightly, looking over at the bar. "Whiskey usually does the trick. I'll let you set up and then we can get started."

"Sounds good."

I dig through my bag for my audio recorder and look over my list of questions for Edward. When he returns with two glasses of whiskey, I give him a look.

"For you," he smirks, sliding one of the glasses toward me.

"Oh. Thanks." I sip it slowly, appreciating the burn. "So how was your friend's wedding?"

Scratching his chin, he says, "Is this off the record?"

I shrug. "Sure. I won't publish anything until after you give me the okay."

"A pal of mine fell onto a cactus."

"Shit."

"Ah, he was fine. The cactus was small. Nothing a little whiskey and tweezers couldn't fix."

"Was it the groom?"

"No. The groom was on his best behavior."

"'Course he was…" I finish off my beer. "How was the trip over from El Paso?"

He smiles to himself. Leans forward. Rests his elbows on the table. "I meet the most fascinating people when I hitchhike."

I point toward the recorder, my way of getting his okay. "I have a feeling you're about to tell a really great story and I'm gonna want to remember all the details."

His laugh is soft, shy, but he obliges and let's me record. He tells me the truth, that the cactus story was about him. He shows me parts of his body, the ones he can, that are pricked and red and raw. He says it didn't hurt so bad, then tells me that's a lie, too, but not to make him sound like a pussy. Or that much of one, at least.

When the waitress comes over and brings two more glasses of whiskey, Edward suggests we move outside. It's warm out, muggy, but I don't really mind. There're less people out here. Maybe because there's no air conditioner. Maybe because it's a Tuesday.

Lights are strung up around us, hanging from the trees. We find an empty picnic table, but instead of sitting across from me, Edward moves beside me. I pull my legs up, crossing them on the bench, and turn the recorder back on.

"You ready?" I ask. He gives me a thumbs-up approval.

When I interview someone for the first time, I typically have a few ice-breaking questions to get them to loosen up and feel comfortable. Edward and I have done this before, many times, and the repartee is already there. That ease already exists. But the opportunity to dig a little and get to know who he really is, is too good to pass up.

"Give me five words you'd use to describe yourself."

"Compassionate. Eclectic." His eyes travel above my head and linger for a good minute before they travel down, down, down, finding my eyes again. "Passionate."

I jot that down. For no good reason.

"Creative. And… grateful." I feel his eyes on me as I write down the last two. "Which five words describe you?" he wonders.

I think about this, but can't think of anything nearly as good as he did. He stares, waits. Hair sticks to the back of my neck, and I pull the elastic band from my wrist and twist the locks in place, feeling a few shorter pieces fall out. "This isn't about me," I finally say, trying to sound teasing.

"I think I know five words that describe you."

"Yeah?"

His lips curl into a smile. "But this isn't about you."

I shake my head, laughing as I look down. "How about an average day? That is, if you ever have an average day."

"I try to do something outdoors every day. If I'm by the ocean, I surf. If I'm not, I climb. Hike. I wake up at six o'clock every morning. Sometimes I hop in my van and drive because I have that itch."

"Wanderlust," I murmur.

"Sometimes it feels like more than that."

"Do you want to elaborate?"

"Not just yet."

He leans over, closer, dipping his head to look at my notepad. I pull it away, out of view.

"What?" He smirks. "I'm going to hear the questions sooner or later."

I keep the pad against my chest, ignoring him and pushing away the feeling that he might be flirting. "I heard you just started working for Patagonia. As a photographer."

"It's kinda still in the works. I've never really been good at sticking around long enough to have a real job. But this is good. This is something I can do and not sit in an office. I get to go around and shoot the shit with my friends and essentially do what I would normally do, but take pictures while I'm doing it."

"What did you do before this? To make money, I mean."

"Whatever it took."

"Okay, definitely gonna need you to elaborate on that one. It leaves too much to the imagination."

His eyes grow wide, innocent, but that smile plays on his lips. "Like what?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Like I had sex for money?" He gauges my reaction, then picks up the recorder, bringing it to his mouth. "Let the record show that I never had sex for money."

"Okay, okay," I laugh. "Jesus. So what did you do, then?"

"Odd jobs. Washed dishes. Mowed lawns. Uh… I was a lifeguard one summer. That was fun."

"Did you have to perform CPR?"

His eyes bounce between my eyes and lips. "Nah."

"So you just stick around long enough to earn some cash, and then you're gone."

"I stay as long as I need to."

"And then off to the next adventure?"

His smile is small, calculating. "And then off."

* * *

 **I should thank Kim and Vic for reading, helping, and indulging all of my ideas. I'd be lost without them.**  
 **  
And thank YOU for reading and reviewing and also indulging this little idea of mine!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Three hours, two beers, and one last glass of whiskey later, the interview nears an end.

I ask Edward where he grew up, but that's more for me than anything. Nobody reading this is going to care where he's been. They're only interested in where he's going, which finally leads me to: "What's your next big move?"

"In two days I'm gonna start making my way to South America."

"For?"

"For… nothing? For everything. I'm flying to Mexico, gonna hop on this boat and make my way to Easter Island, then ultimately Chile."

"You're sailing there," I deadpan, sipping the last drops of whiskey. "Couldn't you just fly?"

"That'd be more convenient," he smirks, "but where's the fun in that?"

"How long will it take?"

He brings the glass to his lips, tipping his head back and chewing on some ice. "Couple months?"

I stare at him, envy his _c'est la vie_ outlook.

"That would be amazing," I say quietly. "Not to care and just… go."

"You ever been?

"To South America?" I laugh. "No."

"Why not?"

His question is an easy one, but it takes me a good minute to come up with an answer. And it might be the most honest thing I've ever said.

"I don't know. I've just never had it in me to up and leave. Not like you. Never had a reason to." His gaze becomes too much, because when he looks at you, he really sees you. So I stare down at my hands. "I was dating this guy, and that was everything. I thought I was going to be with him forever. And it's not like he had aspirations to see the world. So I didn't really, either. He was content just being here and doing his thing. And I thought I would be enough. But now I'm thinking the way things ended was for the best."

Edward nods, takes his time replying. "So what's _your_ next big move?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your ex didn't want to see the world, but it seems like you do. So what are you gonna do about it?"

I take a deep breath, feeling silly and weird that the conversation is now focused on me. "I don't… know." I clear my throat, slipping back into work-mode. "We should meet up when you get back, though. That'd be a great fucking interview."

"I have a better idea."

"What?"

"Come with me."

I give him a look. "Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"What? No. I couldn't. I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have responsibilities. Rent. A job. A cat."

"You can write anywhere," he reminds me. "What would be better than getting first-hand experience? To be the one to hike a mountain, and write about how your calves burned and your hands were so dry and cracked, they bled. How your breath was caught in your chest and you had thoughts about turning back, but in the end it was the most amazing feeling in the world and you wouldn't give it up for anything."

I hold his gaze, my mind battling my heart, because it would be an amazing opportunity. But making this decision with zero planning and a departure in two days is just not feasible.

"Can I ask you something?" he murmurs, leaning so close that his face is all I see. "When was the last time you had an adventure?"

"I… well my life isn't exactly about adventure."

"That's a damn shame."

* * *

 **Sneaky update at work. /clears history**

 **Thanks for reading! And reviewing!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

When I get home, I open Google Maps and type "Easter Island" into the search bar. A small, less-than-intimidating island appears. But it takes a good eight clicks of zooming out before anything other than water appears on the screen. And it's fucking terrifying.

I've never been on a boat. Not unless I count that party barge a friend of mine rented for her high school grad party. And I don't, because it was docked the entire time.

My chest expands as I stare at the map, trying to catch a breath that isn't coming.

Down the hall, I hear Jess's door open. Sadie appears before her, jumping on the table and nudging her head on the edge of my laptop screen.

"I just watched three hours of The Bachelor," Jess says, yawning. "I'm not bragging, but I thought it was pretty impressive and I wanted to tell you."

I scoff. "You watched without me?"

"I didn't know when you'd be home." She fills the kettle with water. "How was it anyway?"

"The interview?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Just good," she repeats, her gaze moving past me and onto my screen. "Why are you looking at Hawaii?"

I laugh at her complete ignorance for geography. "That's Easter Island."

She flips me off. "Don't tell anyone I said that. Are you researching shit?"

"Sorta."

"Did that Edward guy go there or something?"

I think about lying. Because if I tell Jess the truth, she's going to push me to go. And maybe I'm not ready to do something as adventurous as sailing across the Pacific Ocean. Maybe I should start with something small, like indoor rock climbing.

Sadie meows, and I take it as a nudge to be honest.

"So Edward… asked me to go to Patagonia with him. In two days."

"The store?"

"Jess, no. It's in South America."

The kettle boils, but she ignores it. "Well why the hell would I think he was asking you to go to South America? That's a little far-fetched. And weird?"

"I mean, it's not _that_ weird of an offer," I say, surprising myself. "I'd still be working, and writing about the trip. But instead of meeting up with him afterwards, I'd just be there, experiencing it for myself."

"You lucky asshole. I hope you said yes."

"I said I'd give him an answer tomorrow." I actually tried to tell him no, but he wouldn't accept that as an answer until I did a few Google searches and had a night of sleep.

Jess bites her lip, then busies herself by making tea. "Do you trust him?"

"I don't know. Yes? I don't think he's sketchy, if that's what you're asking."

"So what's his plan?" she asks, sitting across from me at the table. "How's he getting there?"

I give her all the details, the ones I can remember, anyway. I tell her he's flying to Mexico, but only because this is a last-minute trip and he doesn't have time to hitchhike. That he found a crew that's ultimately sailing to Chile, but stopping in Acapulco, Cocos Island, Galapagos, Easter Island, and Juan Fernandez along the way. She asks if Patagonia is a country and I tell her no, it's a region in Argentina and Chile. She says she should've paid more attention in school. I tell her that's what Google's for.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "At least two or three months."

She whistles. "Are you're considering not going?"

"Yeah. What if he only invited me because he was a kinda drunk?"

"Doubtful."

"Okay, well I'm also fucking terrified to leave."

"That can't be a valid reason."

"Fine. Money is partly a reason, too. I have enough in savings to go on the trip, but I might not have enough to cover rent while I'm gone. And I don't want to screw you over." She frowns. "Unless you sublet my room. But then I'm putting all this pressure on you to find someone to move in, and—"

"Oh my god, Bella. No. If that's the only concern you have, then I refuse to be the reason you stay. That's ridiculous. I'll be fine. I will. But if this is seriously something you want to do, you have to just go for it."

"But—"

"Reasons why you should go: you can write anywhere. You deserve a fucking break. You're twenty-seven years old, kind of boring—"

"Hey."

"And maybe this trip will spark something in you. The highlight of your week was gonna be watching old episodes of The Bachelor with me." I roll my eyes at this, but don't bother denying it. "Maybe this will give you a chance to really get over Liam."

"I am over him," I say, believing it. But yeah. Space would be good. Like, a different continent kind of space.

"Not trying to quote Nike here, but… just go for it."

"It's actually _just do it_. But whatever, I understand the sentiment." I take her words to heart, really let them sink in. Maybe I do deserve this. Chances like this don't come around often, if at all, and I'd be an idiot to let it pass by.

XXX

The next morning, my phone buzzes. It's not an alarm or a text, but a call. From Edward. At six in the morning.

"Hello?" I ask, voice dry.

"Oh, good." I can hear the amusement in his voice. "You're up."

"Oh, yeah," I say, imitating his sarcasm. "Definitely awake."

"Listen. You're probably a little annoyed, and I get that. But what are your plans for today?"

I roll over, keeping the phone against my cheek. "Mostly just writing. Working. And thinking about your offer."

"I have a better idea," he says. "Take me to your favorite place."

"My favorite place."

"Only stipulation is that it's gotta be outdoors."

"Right." I'm tempted to ask him why he wants to do this, but decide against it. Maybe the less I know, the better. "Okay. I'm game. When?"

"Text me your address and I'll meet you at eight. Then we'll figure it all out."

"Sounds good."

I send him my address after we hang up, then decide to get out of bed since I'm already awake. I mill around the house, feed Sadie, drink coffee, do a little more research on the trip. I think about where I'm going to take Edward today, and what that place means to me. And then I call my dad.

He picks up the phone (and I mean literally picks it up—I think my parents might be the only people who still have a landline) and immediately gives me a hard time for not calling more. But it's good, it's familiar. My mom picks up the other phone, the one in the kitchen, and we fall into an easy conversation where I tell them everything about Edward and the trip and my concerns. In the end, my dad tells me I've always been brave, I've just needed a little push. And my mom tells me not to worry, to let her do that part, she's good at it.

By the time Edward knocks on my front door, most of my nerves have disappeared. I still have some concerns, but know those won't fully go away until I talk to him.

"So where're we going?" he asks, just as Sadie strolls up to him.

"Pedernales Falls," I say, pulling on my running shoes. "Psst. Get over here, leave him alone."

"It's okay." He crouches down, rubbing under her chin. "What's your cat's name?"

"Allow me to formally introduce you," I say, picking her up. Edward stands and I hold out her paw. "Edward, this is Sadie. She's almost eleven years old, yet still acts like a kitten."

He shakes her little paw, then chuckles when she meows.

"So this is _the_ cat. One of the reasons why you tried turning down my offer."

I stare up at him, give him a look, feel silly for trying to use Sadie as an excuse. "Yeah."

"Did you make a decision yet?" He searches my face, and I don't answer right away. "I'm not trying to push, but… there are just some things that need to happen before we go."

I put Sadie on the floor. "Like what?"

"Pack. Buy a plane ticket." He pauses, looks up at the ceiling then back at me. "We need to get you some gear, like hiking boots, a tent, and a nice-ass sleeping bag. And you should probably go get vaccinated, just to be safe. But all of this needs to happen today. If you're going, that is."

I smile, and maybe he wasn't expecting that.

"Is that a _yes_ smile?" he asks, looking a little relieved.

"It's a _I feel better knowing you've done a little thinking and a little planning_ smile."

"Didn't think I had it in me?"

"I don't know. I was a little worried, like maybe this was a spur-of-the-moment, I'm-sorta-drunk-and-accidentally-invited-the girl-who-was-interviewing-me kind of decision."

"I wouldn't do that. I only say what I mean."

"Okay. Well in that case, I'm in."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're gonna love it."

"Which part?"

He grins, slowly. "All of it."

* * *

 **Let the adventure begin! Thank you, thank you for reading.**

 **Much love to Kim and Vic, yo.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 **Day 1  
Mexico**

I'm not sure how I managed to pack everything I needed before this morning, but I guess I didn't realize how little I'd actually have to bring. The lighter, the better, Edward said. I found this sentiment ultimately unsettling, because I'm definitely an over-packer. But when you don't have to bring a hair dryer, a straightener, make-up, or a different pair of shoes for each day, you find you don't really have much left that you need.

When we get off the plane, we make our way over to baggage claim. The airport is small, not super busy. The only people I see are ones I recognize from our flight, also waiting for their belongings. Maybe waiting to start their own adventure.

We grab our things, which consists of one large backpack for each of us, and a duffel bag, though Edward's duffel is incredibly longer than mine since it also holds his surfboard.

He lifts my backpack with ease, raising his eyebrows. "Ready?" I turn around, and he slips the straps onto my shoulders. When I lean a little too much to the left, he chuckles, tilting me a little to the right. "You'll get used to it."

We each use the bathroom, then make our way out of the airport. It's a little humid, but the sun is out and the breeze is nice. The weather's a little warm for me to be wearing the hiking boots I bought yesterday, but Edward said it'd be good to wear them in. Turns out, he was right. My feet fucking hurt.

Pulling out my phone, I text Jess that we made it. She replies with a ton of thumbs-up and kissy-faced emojis, and a picture of Sadie. In the end, Jess decided she would sublet my room. I paid one month's rent, left some extra cash for bills, and booked my one-way ticket to Mexico at her insistence.

I follow Edward until we're standing in the sun, away from the covered area with taxis and vans. He looks around, like he's waiting for someone. I'm trying not to ask too many questions. Trying to go with the flow. But not knowing every second of every minute is proving to be a test to my sanity.

"What's the plan?" I finally ask.

He grabs a worn baseball cap out of his backpack, pulls it on his head backwards. "You'll see."

"Right, but where are we going?"

"Not far from here. And we're not actually sailing until tomorrow morning."

"Oh. So where are we staying then?"

"I know a guy."

Edward's still looking around, checking his phone, but stops when he sees my face. His smile is gentle, knowing. "I'll get better at that."

"What?"

"Keeping you in the know." He searches my face long and hard, and the way he studies it feels like more of an apology than words could ever be. "Oh," he says, dropping his backpack and digging through it again. "I got you something."

"Yeah?"

He hands me a notebook. "I always get one before I go on a new adventure. Kinda like a clean slate. A new start."

His eyes are dancing with excitement, which makes _me_ excited. I stare down at the notebook: it's blue, sea-blue, and the pages inside are brown, like maybe someone bound some kraft paper together. I flip through, trying to push away the weird little tug my heart is doing.

"Thank you," I say sincerely.

His nod is small. "So the guy who owns the boat we're sailing on, Marcus, is letting us stay with him and his family tonight."

"That's generous."

"I've known him since I was a kid. He's a good man." His his eyes drift past me, over my shoulder. "Speaking of."

An older man with tan, leathered skin walks toward us. He's smiling, whole face lit up.

"This ole dirtbag," he says, greeting Edward with a hug.

"Been too long. Thanks for picking us up." Edward takes a step back, looks at me. "Bella, this is Marcus. He and my dad were good friends."

I go to shake hands with Marcus, but he waves me off, pulling me in for a hug as well. I'm instantly eased by his presence. He's a warm man, I can already tell, and my nerves are put at bay for now.

"Thank you so much for letting me tag along," I say. "I know it was a little last minute."

"Everything with this one is last minute." Marcus laughs, giving Edward a rough, good-natured pat on the back. "But he's the real deal. You're in good hands."

Edward gives me a look, one that almost feels like he's embarrassed. It's cute, the way the top of his cheeks turn pink.

"You ever been on a boat?" Marcus asks me, looking me square in the eyes.

I open my mouth, breathe out a laugh. "Nope."

"You'll get used to it," he assures me, then: "You'll find yourself out there. Nothing escapes the rolling sea."

I can feel Edward's eyes on me, but I don't look his way. Instead, I lean closer to Marcus and say, "That's what I'm hoping for."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Day 1.5  
Mexico

After we get settled, meaning we've been introduced to Marcus's wife and five kids and pitched our tents in their yard, Edward suggests we tour the boat we'll be calling home for the next few months. I give him a tiny smile of appreciation, because I know this request isn't for him. It's for me, so I can prepare for when we take off tomorrow morning.

Marcus agrees, and after he lets his wife, Carmen, know we'll be back before dinner, the three of us pile into his truck.

The drive isn't long, because it's fast. When the road winds left, Edward's shoulder presses against mine, and when it veers right, the entire side of my body molds into his.

Marcus doesn't seem to notice.

When we get to the marina, Edward jumps out first, holding the door open as I slide across the bench and hop out.

"His sailing isn't anything like his driving," he murmurs close to my ear, slamming the door shut.

I snort a laugh, and we follow Marcus across the dock, the wood shifting ever so slightly under our feet. We pass a dozen boats until we stop in front of one that has "The Geezer" branded on the side.

"She's an oldie but a goodie," Marcus says, admiring the sailboat. "Got her back in… when was it?" He looks to Edward for the answer, who only grins, shrugs.

"Where'd the name come from?" I ask.

"It was a friend's nickname," he says with a quick wink.

Marcus leads us onto the boat, holding out a hand for me and leading the way. We walk carefully along the side, to the back deck. He does his best to throw out a lot of terms, like bow and stern, starboard and port. The intent on his face as he explains it all to me is so endearing, I want to die.

We walk into a small room, one that's surrounded by windows. "This is the cockpit," he explains, hitting his fist on a large wheel.

"This area wasn't covered last time I was here," Edward notices, giving a small nod of approval. "Makes steering a little easier, huh?"

Marcus lets out a chuckle. "It's nice to get some reprieve from the elements. It's exhausting spending hours in the cockpit when there's bad weather."

"Bad weather?" I echo.

"Oh yeah. We'll hit some storms out there. Nothing too bad, I hope." He catches my scared shitless expression. "Don't worry too much. It won't do you any good." Without another word, he ducks down and disappears into the opening next to the wheel.

I look to Edward, trying to mask my concern. "Bad weather?"

"We'll hit some storms at some point. It's unavoidable."

"All I'm picturing is that movie The Perfect Storm. The giant wave… the boat like, vertical against the water." I blink. "Boats aren't supposed to be vertical."

He breathes out a laugh through his nose. "Bella."

"Yeah?"

"It's a movie."

"Right."

"Hey!" Marcus calls out. "Come check it out below."

I duck and take the few stairs that lead below the boat. Once I'm standing with Marcus, I glance around, pleased to see it's a little more spacious than I'd imagined.

"I won this thing in a bet, you know. From that one's dad," Marcus says, pointing toward Edward. "We were on a week-long bender, I believe. And poker was the game."

"Isn't it always?" Edward snarks, taking off his hat, releasing a head full of greasy hair.

"He bet his boat?" I ask in bewilderment and a tiny bit amusement. "Why would he do that?"

"People do crazy things. It's better not to ask," Marcus says breezily. "So, these here are the living quarters. Not much of a looker. This is the galley."

"Otherwise known as the kitchen," Edward pipes in.

Marcus points just past what is considered the kitchen, toward a table and two separate padded benches on either side of the walls. "That's the saloon."

Edward adds, "Or the living room."

"The door over there is the—"

"Bathroom."

Marcus scoffs. "Do you want to give her the tour instead, boy?"

Edward laughs, holding up his hands.

"There're two rooms," Marcus tells me as I follow him across the cabin. He opens the door to a room that's only big enough to be filled with a bed, a low ceiling, and two tiny windows on either side of the walls. "Not the most comfortable, but there's privacy. I don't sleep much, but Carmen'll want a room. You can take this one, we usually have the one by the stairs."

My gaze flicks toward Edward. "And everyone else?"

"The benches in the saloon pull out into makeshift beds, so the rest of the crew will find places to crash."

"How many people are coming with?"

"There'll be a total of six of us. One or two of us will need to be on night watch, so the lack of room for sleeping won't matter much."

"I can sleep wherever," I tell the both of them. "Honestly. I'm just grateful there's space for me to even tag along."

"Well, you'll have to help out, do your share. Edward can teach you about sailing, show you the ropes. But first," Marcus says with a grin, "we drink."

XXX

After dinner and a few too many shots of tequila, I grab my backpack and sneak outside. The sun is long gone, but the lights surrounding the porch create enough visibility for me to see my tent up ahead.

Music from inside the house thumps, trailing behind me. It's accompanied by laughter and loud, excited conversation. I smile. It was a good night. Marcus and Carmen's hospitality, paired with their infectious attitude over the upcoming trip, was exactly what I needed.

Well, that and many, many drinks.

I think about falling into my tent, passing out until morning. But the urge to write down my thoughts wins, and I find a spot under a nearby tree.

I'm only a couple of incoherent sentences in when I hear the screen door slam shut. A shirtless, board-shorts-wearing Edward appears outside, and I watch him look around for a few seconds before he spots me.

"There you are," he says as he gets closer.

He sits ass-down on the ground, until we're facing each other, knees touching.

"Want one?" He holds out the extra beer in his hand and I take it.

"I was just writing," I murmur, taking a long sip, staring at his hard, broad chest. "Trying to get my thoughts in order before we leave tomorrow."

"I see."

"I figure if I'm going to try to submit anything I write on this trip, I might as well stay consistent. Write while it's happening."

"Good thinking. Need any help?"

I give him a smile, turn on the trusty recorder beside me.

"What about… I ask you some things?"

The way his eyes narrow is playful, as is the tone in his voice. "Can't say no to you."

"How do you usually prepare for a trip like this?"

He thinks, swigs his beer, smiles down at the ground. "I don't. I mean, other than doing necessary shit, like making sure I ultimately have a way to get where I'm going and haven't left my passport in a different city—because that's happened before—I don't really prepare. I just… go."

I sketch a bird on my notepad, the one he gave me. Trace it three times until the lines are thick and the bird's full of ink.

"So no overthinking," I say, paraphrasing what he's just said.

"Exactly. Reflection is also an important part of traveling. Or important for life, maybe. I didn't really figure that out until a few years ago."

I jot down _reflect more_ , then scratch it out and just write _reflect_. Because that's not something I even do now.

Edward lies back on the ground, grabbing my backpack to prop up his head. I watch him for a minute until he speaks, eyes still on the night sky.

"When you go about your day doing the same shit, not really taking the time to reflect about what you're doing or what makes you happy… that's when you find yourself in a rut."

I nod, knowing this feeling exactly.

"I like talking to you," I say quietly, earnestly.

Edward turns on his side, focusing on my face, studying it. His lips twitch beneath his beard and I fight the urge to touch his face.

"We can just talk, you know." With his eyes still on me, he reaches over and carefully turns off the recorder with a _click_. "Without this." Pulls my notepad out of my hands. "And this."

"But I don't know how to talk to people without the pretense that they're being interviewed," I tease.

"Bullshit."

I laugh, lie back beside him, but not touching.

"Tell me about your family," he murmurs.

We talk for a while, with an ease I've never possessed with anyone else. I tell him about my parents, how they're still together, and he tells me about how his dad couldn't commit to his mom. That he wanted freedom and his mom needed security, so eventually they let each other go.

"Are you like your dad in that way?" I ask, already convinced he is. He doesn't strike me as the type to settle down.

"I like freedom. Who doesn't? But unlike my father, I work hard to keep my relationships."

"Like with the girls you meet on the islands?" I tease, only because Carmen mentioned someone earlier who Edward seemed less than enthused talking about.

"No. Like with my friends. My family. They're important to me. My dad was always off on adventures, and I admired him for that. But he didn't think twice about us. That's what I would do differently than him. If I met someone along the way who fit into my life, I would make it work."

His words hit me hard. It makes me feel guilty for being sucked into my own dramas all the time and not taking the time to be involved in what Jess or my family are dealing with.

The combination of alcohol and lack of sleep have me feeling a little emotional. So before I can dwell on it too much, I change the subject. "What time do we have to be up?"

"Six."

"Fuck."

He stands, reaching for my hands and pulling me up with him. "I'll see you in about… three hours."

I dust the dirt and leaves off my ass. "Bright and early."

Before I can walk away, he stops me.

"Hey. What were you writing about when I came out here?"

"Stupid, drunk thoughts," I chuckle, playing it off.

"Don't do that. Don't minimize what you do."

His words sober me. "You know Carmen and Marcus knew each other five days before he convinced her to leave Rapa Nui and start a life with him?"

"I did know that," he murmurs with a gentle smile.

"My thing, I guess, is like… how did I spend years with someone without it ever really feeling completely right… and they knew within five days?"

"Fate, maybe."

I give him a long look. "You believe in that?"

"Who knows," he says with an easy shrug. "But timing is always key. And that feeling in your gut? You should really listen to that more often."

* * *

Fist bumps to Kim, Vic, and Patrizia for being supportive and like, "cool dude" when I told them I somehow managed to write another chapter.

Thank YOU for waiting. It's appreciated more than y'all know.


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